


Fools

by kinpika



Series: A Perfect World [2]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2016-01-26
Packaged: 2018-05-16 09:01:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5822521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinpika/pseuds/kinpika
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Kiss me.”</i>
  <br/>
  <i>And Ryouma does.</i>
</p><p>Marx is taller, but Ryouma is stronger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fools

**Author's Note:**

> vaguely follows "Safe"  
> for angi and crane

“Are we alone?” always, he would start this way; a quick look over his shoulder, a careful amount of distance between them.

Ryouma is not as bothered by it as he first had been, taking it at first as some sort of embarrassment for their being together. Eventually, Ryouma met the Nohr royal family, far more personally than during their time at war. There, he finally understood why Marx insisted on being so skittish.

“Yes, I’m sure of it this time.” Ryouma offered a small grin, fondly remembering the last time they had been interrupted. At least Camilla had found it beyond hilarious that she had caught her older brother with his pants around his ankles - Ryouma had as well, but managed to not show it.

Marx frowned, a deep, disapproving look, one that made Ryouma feel like a small child. Well, almost did, except he slips his fingers into the band of Marx’s pants, and tugs him further into the room. 

“I fondly remember the last time we were together,” Ryouma says, with a very pointed hand running along his own front.

Rolling his eyes, Marx’s feint at disinterest doesn’t get him too far, as he can’t help the knowing smile when Ryouma’s hands reach between his thighs. “I remember you here, pushing between me.”

“Been reading some of your sister’s novels again, have you?”

And Ryouma splutters, before laughing. Marx snorts, covering his mouth to hide the noise. 

“Just kiss me, you damn fool.”

So Marx does, smiling into the embrace. Arms slip around Ryouma’s shoulders, fingers pulling at the banding that holds his hair back. Ryouma makes an appreciative noise deep in his throat, his own hands fiddling with the buttons of Marx’s shirt. His fingers are not used to such armament, and the way he touches and moves the buttons this way and that rub against Marx’s chest, tickling him.

Making a very unhappy noise, Ryouma gives up, and ignoring Marx’s laughter, opts to just tearing his shirt off. At Marx’s protests, Ryouma growls out an almost apology: “I’ll buy you a new one. With less buttons.”

Before there are any further complaints, Ryouma takes the initiative and drives Marx back. Pushing what remains of the shirt off Marx’s shoulders, Ryouma shrugs and moves as the same happens with him, until he presses flush against Marx, feeling his warmth. Marx sighs, a happy sound, and lets his fingers slide south of Ryouma’s shoulders, and further still.

“Come now, little prince,” Ryouma laughs, as he is easily pulled from his clothing, yet tugs at the belt at Marx’s waist. “Far too overdressed.”

Yet Marx stills, hands splayed across Ryouma’s hips, and his lips turned downward. “‘Little prince’?”

“That is what you are, is it not?”

Marx’s lip curls, and Ryouma is thoroughly amused that he’s managed to annoy the crown prince of Nohr so well. And then, after a moment 

“I am taller than you.”

Blinking, Ryouma marvels at the childish tone, and the self satisfied grin as Marx draws himself to his full height. Clicking his tongue, Ryouma gives Marx one look over, before seeming to come to a decision.

“So be it.” And he sinks to his knees, hands pushing Marx against the wall, and holding him there. 

“What are you doing?!” Marx tries to move, but Ryouma is quicker, and stronger. Holding Marx against the wall with sheer determination, Ryouma simply grins.

Licking his lips, Ryouma leans forward, mouth pressing to the fabric of Marx’s pants. Mouthing against the growing bulge, Ryouma licks, tugs, massages, as he would Marx’s cock - had it been unclothed. Tongue laving against the hard outline, Ryouma sends a quick look upwards, just as a hand makes it’s way into his hair. He tries not to grin around the moist material, just sucks firmer, enough to finally draw a noise from Marx.

Marx’s hand, the one not preoccupied, begins fiddling at his belt. For half a minute, Ryouma considers helping him, to feel him hot on his tongue, to taste him down his throat. Ryouma’s hand strays to his free cock, tugging as he imagines Marx spilling down his throat, letting himself loose and fucking his mouth. 

But then he remembers Marx, in the bath, making him feel like some virgin all over again. No, Ryouma decides to not let Marx get away with this, and slaps his hands away.

“Come for me, Marx,” he breathes, fingernails digging into clothed thighs, running down his calves. Under Ryouma’s touch, Marx trembles, trying to move, trying to take his clothes off. Trying to do something.

“Marx, please,” Ryouma says again. He’s pulling himself along, knees sore, entire centre quaking. Ryouma wouldn’t mind being fucked himself right now.

But Marx is making that noise, when he’s close. Too close to function properly, as his hand pulls Ryouma’s hair tight. “Ryou-”

“Marx…”

And Marx comes fantastically, in all his sweaty, blond glory. Through the front of his pants, Ryouma can feel that hot burst, almost taste it. Except, he tastes his own orgasm first, spilling into his own hand as Marx slides down the wall.

Settling on the floor, and laughing lightly as Ryouma falls on his ass, Marx just lets his head roll back. “That was-”

“Incredible.”

“Terrible.”

Ryouma gives Marx one long look, as they answer simultaneously. “What?”

“I soiled my pants, Ryouma.”

“I think it looks good on you.”

Rolling his eyes, Marx lets Ryouma draw closer, until their lips are just against each other. Eyes half lidded, Marx smiles genuinely. “Kiss me.”

And Ryouma does.


End file.
